


Aquila

by Narcoleptic Crow (Kerzenlicht)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Eagle Vision (Assassin's Creed), Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerzenlicht/pseuds/Narcoleptic%20Crow
Summary: A flicker of freedom is found in a blizzard.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 42





	1. A Blizzards Aura

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts), [Annetagonist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annetagonist/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ice and luck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594913) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> Thank you to Annetagonist for the title suggestion!  
> Thank you to LadyIrina for the awesome content!

CT-133 huffed as he cleared out an ice-shattered tree. There was only a couple hours until the sun set, but the snowtrooper had an obligation to fulfill. CT-133 heaved a tree root down hill. And… there! The snowtrooper carefully dragged out the body of one of his fellow troopers. Three down, one to go. CT-133 loaded the former CT-402 onto a makeshift board and dragged the corpse to a shallow cave that would likely be sealed once reinforcements verified the other troopers’ termination. Speaking of- reinforcements were taking an extraordinary amount of time to arrive. The Mandalorian and child must be long gone at this point.

Huffing, CT-133 removed the damaged gear from CT-402 and laid the individual between CT-799 and DP-908. CT-133 took a moment to eat one of the ration packets and choke down what little water he had left. CT-133 would have to heat and boil more water away from the burial cave if reinforcements continued to take their sweet time. It would be nice to have a usable weapon as well. DP-908 had a pocket knife, but that wasn’t going to help if a sneaver got hungry.

CT-133 checked the scanner, grimacing. CT-612’s tracker must have been damaged by one of the massive slabs of ice. There were a few decisions to make and all of them would end in some form of bad luck. CT-133 could seek out CT-612’s body, risking nightfall and another blizzard or he could return to the dropship and wait for reinforcements. Sergeant Holsten, DP-740 hated his guts and might just shoot him if CT-133 didn’t locate the body of DP-740’s favorite member of the squad. Actually no, if Sergeant Holsten arrived with the reinforcements, DP-740 would just order CT-133 to find CT-612’s body alone in the dark. In the middle of a blizzard.  
Plus, the longer CT-133 was away from the dropship, the easier it would be to claim surprise about the cannibalised machine. It was bad enough that CT-133 had not just allowed the Mandalorian to escape; CT-133 had given the target the means to escape, leaving the ancient dropship undefended so that the Mandalorian could take the parts that he needed.

Decision made, the Snow trooper refastened his helmet and stocked up with the salvaged supplies. A bit more firestarter, a few more rations and all three of the heat blankets. He was a decent hunter, so maybe a tiny bit of good luck would come from this disaster of a day? He had maybe an hour before the next ice storm hit.

-

* * *

-

Bad luck! Bad luck! Trooper CT-113 mentally shrieked as he scampered up the mountain’s side. He had the misfortune of tumbling directly into a sneaver when the ground gave way near the area CT-133 had located CT-402. The massive orange-toothed bear was stunned long enough for CT-113 to get out of the ruined den, but the roar (it sounded like a bunch of wood saws had revved up their engines) followed shortly thereafter. Please don’t stumble! I’ve had enough bad luck already! CT-113 panted as he evaded the unhappy creature. The snowtrooper did not have nearly the amount of muscle that allowed the sneaver to nip at his heels, but the sneaver would be twice as fast, sledding on it’s long flat tail if CT-113 tried to go down-hill instead.

CT-133 hit a wall. Too scared to be embarrassed for hitting the cliff face-first, CT-133 chanced a peek towards the sneaver. It was staring at him. But... not moving. CT-133 didn’t dare break eye contact for a long time after that, focusing on regaining his breath during this unexpected reprieve of good luck. The sneaver chuffed, the wood-blade noise quieting. It smacked it’s tail on the mountain. CT-133 gulped. The sneaver seemed to be somehow satisfied, breaking the eye contest. It turned around and went racing down the mountain.

CT-133 sighed, legs shaking with tension, smiling slightly as he leaned against the mountain wall. CT-133 blinked at the sky, relaxing, even as the snow picked up the pace. CT-133 gaped as the sun finished setting. Light bloomed amid the snowstorm- shades of a green-blue river lighting up stars. The spectacular sight entranced CT-133, no Corin, his name was Corin. This was not anything that a snowtrooper could hope to see, let alone enjoy. Corin hadn’t known that this was hiding in the mountainous blizzards. Maybe this was good luck for letting the Mandalorian and his child go. Good luck for adoring this wonderful planet. Corin hums, imagining all the bad luck from today tumbling down the mountain. Giddy as the elements welcomed his presence, Corin saw flickers of light. He looked down and across. Next to Corin was a trail of white glowing footsteps. All hesitation numbed into eager compliance, Corin followed the path into a near-invisible crevice behind a frozen waterfall.

It was simple enough to set up a tiny campsite, setting up one of the blankets to block the wind as he heated up a pot of clean ice and snow. Corin couldn’t help peeking out at the blizzard once more and was startled to find outside darker than space.


	2. The Old Empire Radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin displays expertise in lots of winter-related survival skills. 
> 
> (Warning- a bit of an angsty chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a nod to a certain headcanon from "Amphibians? No ma’am." by thereisnocowboyemoji at https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664943

With morning came a clear sky… and still no reinforcements showing up on the scanner. Baffled, Corin decided to go hunt. If back-up still hadn’t arrived by the time he returned to the mountain alcove, CT-133 would need to seek out one of the abandoned bases from the time of the galactic empire. CT-612 still needed to be found, but without a tracker- that might be close to impossible. 

The ice crystals glittered, a deadly brightness rebounding in their gleam. CT-133 was fortunate last night. Optical shimmers and mirages are just as deadly in the arctic as they are in the desert. There must be a crack in CT-133’s visual display for him to have imagined glowing footprints in the dark. Assessing his conditions, CT-133 concluded that he was alert, was only slightly shivering, was moving normally and conscious. He might be cold stressed, but at least CT-133 was not hypothermic. He drank half of the remaining boiled water- the other half expertly poured to refill the spare canteens. The snow trooper packed up his supplies, only stopping to pull out a spool of wire. He needed to find a tall stick or pole as well- it had also been his good fortune to not fall down a second crevice or man-sized snow stack yesterday. But best not take any risks with today’s lack-luster assistance. 

Hunting was a frustration to patience, especially when one considered there were only a couple types of prey animals, birds nested even higher in the mountain peaks, and oh, yeah there were flat out too many predators who wanted to protect their territory or _eat_ him! Still, after three hours in the upper branches of a withered tree stump and two hours of backtracking his earlier steps, CT-113 managed to bag two icehops. (The third was nabbed by a neon blue frog-looking predator). He shivered and not from the cold. Yik. It was by far CT-133’s least favorite creature on this gorgeous tundra landscape. 

Maybe the long-range aspect of the scanner was broken? CT-133 stared blankly at the mechanical device. It picked up the three dead troopers’ armor just fine. CT-133 was used to the imperial motto of leaving fallen comrades in battle behind… but shouldn’t the base want a debrief about a high-priority target like the Mandalorian? Once reinforcements were in range it should have been obvious that there was one survivor and one trooper missing. Maybe something was wrong at base? Right. It had to be that. CT-113 just had to find the abandoned galactic empire post. Deep breaths soldier. Control. Control is key. Follow orders and you might survive. So get new orders. Though if the sergeant was still in charge, CT-113 could probably guess what orders would come next. There is definitely a measure of predictability when your leading officer (and a few others) hat- strongly discipline you. It’s just hazing. 

He’d smoke the icehops. Maybe CT-133 would get hungry if he smelt the food cooking. The scant daylight was fading fast and CT-133 needed to refill the water canteens. Things would be better with a full stomach, CT-133 hoped. No signs of CT-612 meant that she was probably dead. CT-133 couldn’t imagine someone so close to sergeant DP-740… deserting.

-

* * *

-

For a treacherous climb, it was an unexpected boon of good luck. While CT-133 was focused on not falling off the mountain, anxiety about potentially being… CT-133 wheezed as he lost a foothold and heaved himself upward. Well. There was no time to worry about that. 

CT-133 twisted a new ice screw into the cliff wall, exhaustively checking that it could hold his weight. The anchor secured, CT-133 yelped as a bronco wind pushed him off the wall. He hovered, suspended as the flurry howled in displeasure. Corin couldn’t help the giddy laugh as the wind slowed. His arms cushioned his face from impacting the vertical rock climb. This, this crazy climb was a reason to keep living. Corin grinned, reaching upward.

Corin yawned as he anchored his parachute hammock. A sleeting rain was beginning to fall- and even Corin didn’t dare climb in those conditions. A few more minutes and Corin was set. Heating pads were activated to keep him dry and warm within the durable fabric. He ate a ration, water easing the rest of his hunger- it was easier than eating the remainder of the second icehop within the hammock. 

-

* * *

-

It was the fourth day. Four days with no signs of reinforcements or even a burial squad. CT-113 swallowed a sip of water to avoid choking on the humid air. The snow trooper was beginning to feel and smell a bit rancid. Maybe there would be a sonic at the outpost he could repair? 

An hour after packing the hammock away, CT-113 spotted it. The gale storm winds let up just long enough to reveal the old building. The abandoned outpost sat on the mountain spire like an arrogant overlord. Just one more evil warlord on CT-113’s resume. 

And it was evil. It’s deceptively close appearance was, in reality, three hours away. With a lone, shivering defense blaster attempting to kill the intruder. It failed miserably. The blaster jammed and the pile of parts collapsed into scrap metal. CT-113 kicked the gun away from the old droid and eyed the structure. Some of the stilts had collapsed, but the building seemed sturdy enough. For now. 

Instead of dust, every surface was coated in a thick layer of permafrost. CT-113 grimaced. He didn’t know why he had expected anything else. The heating system likely ran out of fuel at some point. The icy floor crunched under his boots. Bad luck. CT-113 suspected that he was safer in the dangling hammock than this place. CT-113 made a face as he turned a corner and found the caved roof. The former sonic showers and infirmary were likely under that mess according to old schematics. Bad Luck. CT-113 poked around the base and found a radio station. With a bit of tinkering he could probably get it to work, so… good luck? 

CT-113 had to wait for the damaged electronics to gently thaw, so he put a couple heat packs on the boards. There were a few hours left of daylight if another storm didn’t roll through. So CT-113 left to see what he could scavenge. 

Raptors flew overhead in a unique pair-flight. It only distracted CT-113 for a short bit, promise. No prey animals had left life signs on the ground. Bad luck. CT-113 did manage to dig up a couple of mountain tubers that he knew would taste like a potato crossed with an onion. Good luck. He returned to the old outpost. Between the plants and the icehop bones, CT-113 managed to create a thin soup thickened by a ration powder. 

Night arrived, but CT-113 continued to diligently repair the delicate radio. Clean the corroded electrical components… check. Remove the ruined power pack and fractured cords… check. Replacing the external antenna with trap wire… check. Resetting the dial pointer… check. It wasn’t pretty, but here’s to hoping that it's functional. 

“Ice Base 17, Ice Base 17… this is CT-113, OVER.” CT-113 waited several nervous minutes before repeating the message, “Ice Base 17, Ice Base 17… this is CT-113, OVER.”

A cracking sound whistled, “Copy 1… 5...”. CT-113 sighed in relief; the connection was terrible, almost incomprehensible, but _there_.

“Copy 1 out of 5, over.” 

“.... OVER.”

“Stand by.” CT-113 moved to a different part of the building. ““Ice Base 17, Ice Base 17… this is CT-113, OVER.”

“Copy ... out of 5, Over.”

“Copy 3 out of 5, Over.”

“CT-113 what is … position, ...?”

“Galactic peak 25, Over.” 

“Stand by, Over. CT-113, do you copy?”

“Copy 4 out of 5. Request orders, over.” The anticipation was unreal- it had been too long since CT-113 had heard another voice. 

“CT-113, this is Ice Base 17. Maintain ... Stand by, over.”

“Standing by, over.” CT-113 slumped against the radio counter. 

“Galactic peak 25, Galactic peak 25… this is Ice Base 17. Over.”

“This is Galactic peak 25, Over.”

“Verify … squad’s status, Over.”

“Termination by avalanche for CT-402, CT-799, and DP-908. Status of CT-612, unknown. Request reinforcements and pick up, Over.”

“Do you have eyes on the target? Over.”

Baffled, CT-113 responded, “Negative, lost visual after avalanche three days ago, Over.” It was true enough, but shouldn't base command already know the Mandalorian escaped the atmosphere?

“Report on target, over.”

“Target fled into the mountains and set off an explosive. Lost contact with the squad when resurfaced. Target lost. Returned to drop ship for scanner to locate other troopers. Dropship found not flightworthy. Over.”

“Stand by, CT-113. Over.”

“Standing by, over.” CT-113 frowned, rubbing his bruised chest. It felt like bad luck approaching. CT-113 pulled the pocket knife closer, eying the door.

“Galactic peak 25, Galactic peak 25… this is Ice Base 17. Over.”

“This is Galactic peak 25, Over.”

“This is DP-740, verify CT-612’s status, Over.”

“Sir! CT-612 status unknown, Over.”

There was a pause, “Request for pick up denied. Over.” Oh, there was the Bad Luck. CT-113 swallowed. It wasn’t completely unexpected, but CT-113 hated how much he had been depending on a different answer. 

“Request for orders, sir. Over.”

“Locate CT-612. Pick up will be more cost effective for two troopers. Copy?”

“Orders acknowledged, Over.” CT-113 let out a shaking breath. CT-113 was just a tool, he reminded himself. Tools get banged up and discarded occasionally. It was the way of things. 

“Ice Base 17, Out.”

  
  
  



End file.
